USUK writings
by arthuhr
Summary: Very short drabbles of different usuk writings.
1. Chapter 1

On the car ride we passed the shadows of lit buildings under the starless sky and cars that were going a bit too fast, including ours. Alfred was driving with the radio on an oldies late night music station and I was in the passangers seat with my head resting on my shoulder. We didn't talk to each other, we didn't need to. We had just been driving around at 2 am for no reason other than the fact that I didn't want to go back home yet and Alfred liked driving because it cleared his mind. My house never felt like home anyway, but this did. Old candy wrappers and McDonald's boxes from last Tuesday on the floor of the backseat, my favorite sweatshirt and Come On Eileen playing loud enough to get lost into. Both of us were feeling like we were complete, like all of reality and every single moment that had or had yet to happen didn't matter because of right now. I turned to Alfred and he smiled back, and just that reassurance of him taking in how I existed and actually enjoying it, along with music that could be found in our parent's basement and a messy car that smelled like cigarettes, french fries and beach sand was enough to make me feel like I was more than just a single influence on a few people. I was Arthur, Alfred's boyfriend and best friend. And on nights like these it felt like our lives had the timespan of the universe.


	2. Chapter 2

My favorite thing about Arthur was how he had these completely honest moments that made me fall in love with him all over again every time. Like how in the mornings he'd wake up a few minutes after I started making coffee in the kitchen and he'd quietly sit up and stare blankly at the floor. I liked to imagine he was processing whether or not he was even awake or not, it was really amusing. Then once Arthur had decided he was indeed awake he'd stumble into the kitchen and ignore me, like finding his Cheerios was more important than saying good morning to his future husband. It was adorable though, how he'd sometimes spill the milk everywhere since he was still half asleep or accidentally pour orange juice in the bowl. By this point I knew he was awake because his usual grumpyness would take over and he'd nag me for putting the milk in the wrong side of the fridge. It was like he was a woman, I swear.  
I didn't mind though, because I knew he only meant well when he aggressively fixed my ties before going to work or when he told me to floss my teeth before kissing him. (Which I never did.)  
It was really all worth it though, especially during those small moments between us where I'd come home from the office and he just finished editing another story where we had those simple, quiet kisses and relaxed hugs. Of course, seconds later we'd go back to arguing over a bag of doritos or a weird british movie he thought was amazing.  
But I loved Arthur, I loved him like how all those sappy poems from dead writers love someone or like how a 5 year old boy loves that girl with pigtails. It was like I knew every word he said and knew everything he felt. I loved him because he was the most familar and honest person I knew, and especially because he was Arthur.


	3. Chapter 3

I always thought it was sort of stupid how people could believe in love at first sight. If you're on a train to the next town over and someone gets in just in time for you two to share a small moment of eye contact, how does someone even fall completely in love in that moment? You don't know their past, how many siblings they have, or how they take their coffee, so you can't love them. Well, at least that's what I thought until it happened to me outside of a deli in Brooklyn.

I wasn't going to be late for work. Just once, if all went according to plan I'd be on time. If anything, a few minutes late that I could blame on long again, my boss would never fire me. I knew that because the articles I wrote were sometimes the only ones people read, and I practically save his ass every time I stay up late researching stupid topics like the best hairstyles for summer because for some reason women liked reading those.

I would quit in a few years though, just needed to get settled enough and some extra time to work on original works, like stories. My dad didn't like it very much, up until junior year of high school I wanted to be a football player or something manly like how my dad was a mechanic. But I liked words too much, even for someone who stumbles over them like falling down the stairs during a catholic mass.  
I exited the deli with a bottle of apple juice and a cream cheese bagel, both my hands full and my black messenger bag at my side that made me look so awesomly professional even though all I had in there were ideas on napkins and coupons to McDonalds. No one needed as much coupons as I had, but when you're parents live 2 hours away and you just moved out with an associates degree in writing, then chinese food and mcdonalds are an extension of your own soul.  
Before he walked out of that dirty, public bus across the street, I leaned against the wall trying to straighten myself up before walking two blocks to the office. I took a bite of my bagel and people watched for a few minutes before I was really going to be late.  
A few of the only people on the street at 5 am were just ones like me, rushing (or just taking their sweet cream cheese bagel time) to get to their lone, plastic offices with a framed picture of their children in their workspace. Everyone wearing an old suit with a "fun" tie or casual looking high heels.  
But as soon as that dirt covered blue bus with an ad for some stupid tv show stopped in front of the store across the street, I instinctiviely lifted my head to watch new people climb down the bus stairs.  
Between two other plain and simple looking young men was Arthur. I had absolutely no idea who he was, but I had the biggest impulse to just hug him like he was an old friend I hadn't seen in years.  
Unlike the casual suits everyone else wore, Arthur was wearing a bowtie with a brown cardigan sweater with the sleeves over his fingers. His messy blond hair looked like it was cut by a three year old, and his eyebrows were like furry hamsters. Somehow, it just seemed to all fit together perfectly into one awkward, angry looking guy.  
And I fell in love with it.  
I didn't know his name yet, why he was waiting outside the thrift store, and I didn't know things like his favorite song or what his shirt smelled like. But I knew right then that he was in front of me, just existing and in some way or another maybe was it was planned that he'd be the one I dedicated my novels to.  
And I would've ran across that street without looking both ways with my bagel half eaten if it hadn't been for that silver mazda that had driven by to stop in front of him and take him away. It seemed inportant to him, but it honestly felt like I had missed my chance to get to know who could've been the greatest guy ever. I didn't know why but I think I already knew he was.  
I didn't see him again until three months later when we got into the same taxi together, at the same time. He tried to claim all rights to the taxi but I just introduced myself quickly without hesitation.  
After that first time, every single first sight of him had me falling in love again, that's what I started believing in.


	4. Chapter 4

Two weeks ago, I stayed up until 4 am on the phone with Alfred. At first we talked about normal things like the amount of cereal needed for a perfect brealfast or the test we both failed in english, then at around 2 am we somehow got into a deep conversation about celery and he asked me what I'd do if he died. Taken a back by the sudden change in subject, I simply said I didn't know.  
Last month he came out to me, hiding in my closet during school hours while he was "home sick" just to burst through the closet and yell "Arthur, I'm coming out of the closet, get it?" Just like that. Of course, it wasn't too much of a surprise, since he never seemed to have crushes on the girls in class and was a bit more sensitive than the other guys on the football team. He laid down on my bed that afternoon, waiting for my reply and I told him to "clean this fucking mess you made."  
Though he treated it all as something to smile at, on the phone he told me he really hated himself, and how other kids did too. Once he told me about his sexuality, somehow everyone else just knew. On account of how two days later they didn't want him "eyeing their dicks" in the locker room so he stopped attending practices. One the phone I heard a small snivel, and I almost asked if he was crying but I knew he would've just said I was hearing things.  
I tried my best to tell him everything would be alright, I really did. But I suppose that's just not how life works, because now all I have from him is a photograph.


	5. Chapter 5

Note: I think I'm just gonna upload multiple ones in a single vhapter, so here you go.

...

I used to call Arthur all the time, and almost every Friday I'd be in his bedroom playing Yoshi Story until his mom told us it was time for bed. Even after we curled up next to each other under the sheets, we stayed awake for two more hours just exchanging secrets and coming up with stupid jokes about butts. I was the louder,more outgoing one of us. Everywhere we went I'd have him under my arm and I'd introduce him as 'Arthur my bestest friend ever' and he'd just nod as the adults cooed over us. I'm not sure exactly where we stopped talking, but he was like scar that was beginning to fade away. And I let him. We changed, he pierced his right ear by himself and I got my braces off during freshman year. We became strangers, different people to the point where no one would even fathom that we knew of each other's existance. But I always noticed Arthur in English class, falling asleep and getting A's anyway, or slouching by his locker with his hands in his pockets. If I ever was given the simple chance of him saying my name one more time, I wouldn't hesitate to have him under my arm again. I missed Arthur, and seeing our empty pictures in my room scared me, because I knew we had changed too much by now to have each other back.

...

The first picture I took with Arthur was the only picture I had of anyone hanging on my wall. It had been when we were kids, I was wearing blue shorts and a t shirt with a batman symbol on it, and he wore some nerdy looking clothes his mom had picked out for him that morning. Back then there was a playground set in my backyard with a metal slide that almost creaked everytime you slid down, and there was a bench-like swing that's white paint was chipping here and there. On that swing is where we took the picture, my arm was around his and we both smiled with my front teeth non existant and his lips chapped. My mom thought we looked "so cute" with our yankee baseball caps on and our socks bunched up. I was around 6, and it was 1998 when she told us to say "cheese." After a few years when I started doing more homework, my parents got rid of the swing set. I had gotten a bit sentimental over it, but it was rusty and old, better to be thrown away by now. When I was 17, Arthur and I put on some jeans and sat right on the dirt where the old bench swing used to hang over, and I held the camera in front of us since my mom was too busy sleeping to do it. His smile was closed this time, and my hair wasn't as messy as it used to be. But just that split second of the flash going off, we could relive that moment where we knew we'd last just as long as a photograph.

...

It was a bit hard to understand the way I felt about Arthur sometimes. He was my best friend since 2nd grade, even during 8th grade when I started being a douchey football jock and he was a quiet kid who tried his first cigarette that year. We even stayed friends during high school, when he got his 6th peircing and I got my 6th girlfriend. We had different friends, different clubs we joined, and we were invited to different parties on Fridays. Through all that we still had time for each other, doing things like watching old movies and stealing beers from Arthur's dad's garage. I think I was really in love with him; but I didn't want his kisses, I didn't need to see him beside me every morning before making coffee, and I didn't want him whispering 'I love you' under the stars to me. I was in love with the blonde at the roots of his dyed hair, I was in love with how his front teeth had a tiny gap, and I was in love with how he still watched Doctor Who with me even if his punk friends though it was geeky. He's my best friend, and ever since I had introduced myself after seeing him on his gameboy during recess, it has stayed that way. I was in love with Arthur because he had been in my life too long, and was now a part of me that I could never let go of.


	6. Chapter 6

The problem with most tall straight girls who were cute was that they were most likely already taken by guys who watched football and played video games. Amelia was one of those girls. She had cheeks that rosed over when she got too cold, and her quirky hair was soft enough to run your hands through when she was asleep on your shoulder. We were best friends, her and I, to the point where we slept in the same bed during sleepovers. I loved watching her eyelashes when she laughed, and her curves when she wore jeans. It took every ounce of willpower for me not to wrap my arms around her and kiss her when she sang out of tune to her favorite song. I was in love with my best friend Amelia Jones, but all she looked up on the internet was semi-muscular guys and 30 year old actors with beards.

* * *

It almost seemed that Arthur was completely against anything having to do with a football player like me. He wore studded leather jackets, had his ears stretched and wore heavy boots that girl's wouldn't even wear. Last year he dyed his hair green after a girl with lip gloss asked if it was natural, and he also stopped talking to people after being called a fag by my friend in the boys locker room. Two days after that I tried to wave at him on my way to English, but a girl with a short skirt waved back instead and Arthur kept his head straight. Another time I purposefully sat next to him in science, just so we could be lab partners, but the teacher scolded me and pointed at my original seat. I had once even ignored the overcrowded lunch table of the jocks and prep girls just to sit across from him, but he had glared at me and left me to sit alone. I'm not sure why I cared so much, but I honestly thought he hated me. Seeing me as just another annoying jock. But as I walked by the janitor's closet that day, he quickly pulled me in, handing me a box of oreos. It was pitch black except for the light on my phone, and we could only hear muffled chatter from outside in the hallways. "You're Alfred Jones right?" He pulled out a carton of cigarettes and I nodded. I could see the dark outline of him smiling at this, and I remember asking myself how we are going to get out of this fucking closet without getting caught.

* * *

Arthur and I were at some house party where they were playing some Green Day song on the stereo speakers. I had promised the football team I'd show up, but it was my first house party and I didn't want to go alone, so I convinced Arthur (Which involved me doing his math homework for the next two months) to tag along with me. As soon as we walked in my football friends crowded around us, too drunk already to remind themselves that they normally hated Arthur. We followed them downstairs to the basement passing by two girls making out and a guy sleeping with a bottle of vodka (I think?) in his hand. We had stayed down there for a while, they were drinking as we played fooseball which Arthur was pretty good at. Aftee an hour or so Arthur started getting bad, but this happened to him normally. He gets these heart palpitations and paces around too much, so as soon as I noticed I grabbed his hand and took him upstairs to the bathroom. I locked the door and we sat across from each other in the tub. I don't know why, but bathrooms seemed to help calm him when he got like this. I leaned my head against the cold, still wet tile and played with his shoelaces. "You feel better?" I asked looking at his shoes. "A little." He rubbed his right arm. "It's been getting worse lately though, ever since my dad left." I didn't reply, and after a few minutes we started talking up again; this time getting into a argument about how much maple syrup to put on a waffle. My first house party was my freshman year, and I didn't even get drunk. All I did was sit in a cold bathtub with my best friend Arthur while listening to punk ska music from the living room and glasses breaking. I wasn't in love with him at the time, but I knew then that I wouldn't fall asleep in someone's bathroom with anyone else but him.

* * *

I had grown far too familiar with airports far too fast. It wasn't until I was 15 that I first went on a plane, that time my family was going to Canada to visit my cousin and his new girlfriend who was surprisingly pretty and put up with Matthew's hockey player attitude. I was 16 the second time I sat in those uncomfortable airport seats when I met my best friend Arthur face to face. We had been shy friends on tumblr at first, and then had grown to having extremely loud debates about cereal packaging on skype at 2 am. When he first told me he bought a ticket to New York, I couldn't stop smiling. That was also the first time I willingly cleaned my room, and payed for my own haircut. Arthur tapped on my shoulder at the airport and smirked, and I crushed him into a loving and painful hug. It was really only the start of sleeping in the car on the way home and reassuring goodbyes, and not to mention also those crazy stories about having the security check point taking our apple juices or getting stuck there for 4 hours because of yet another New York snowstorm.

* * *

_That's pretty much most of the random drabbles I have so far. I'm working on maybe actually writing a fic, so hopefully I'll be able to do that! Thanks for reading!_


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